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<h2> CHAPTER V </h2>
<p>One Thursday, Camille, on returning from his office, brought with him a
great fellow with square shoulders, whom he pushed in a familiar manner
into the shop.</p>
<p>"Mother," he said to Madame Raquin, pointing to the newcomer, "do you
recognise this gentleman?"</p>
<p>The old mercer looked at the strapping blade, seeking among her
recollections and finding nothing, while Therese placidly observed the
scene.</p>
<p>"What!" resumed Camille, "you don't recognise Laurent, little Laurent, the
son of daddy Laurent who owns those beautiful fields of corn out Jeufosse
way. Don't you remember? I went to school with him; he came to fetch me of
a morning on leaving the house of his uncle, who was our neighbour, and
you used to give him slices of bread and jam."</p>
<p>All at once Madame Raquin recollected little Laurent, whom she found very
much grown. It was quite ten years since she had seen him. She now did her
best to make him forget her lapse of memory in greeting him, by recalling
a thousand little incidents of the past, and by adopting a wheedling
manner towards him that was quite maternal. Laurent had seated himself.
With a peaceful smile on his lips, he replied to the questions addressed
to him in a clear voice, casting calm and easy glances around him.</p>
<p>"Just imagine," said Camille, "this joker has been employed at the
Orleans-Railway-Station for eighteen months, and it was only to-night that
we met and recognised one another—the administration is so vast, so
important!"</p>
<p>As the young man made this remark, he opened his eyes wider, and pinched
his lips, proud to be a humble wheel in such a large machine. Shaking his
head, he continued:</p>
<p>"Oh! but he is in a good position. He has studied. He already earns 1,500
francs a year. His father sent him to college. He had read for the bar,
and learnt painting. That is so, is it not, Laurent? You'll dine with us?"</p>
<p>"I am quite willing," boldly replied the other.</p>
<p>He got rid of his hat and made himself comfortable in the shop, while
Madame Raquin ran off to her stewpots. Therese, who had not yet pronounced
a word, looked at the new arrival. She had never seen such a man before.
Laurent, who was tall and robust, with a florid complexion, astonished
her. It was with a feeling akin to admiration, that she contemplated his
low forehead planted with coarse black hair, his full cheeks, his red
lips, his regular features of sanguineous beauty. For an instant her eyes
rested on his neck, a neck that was thick and short, fat and powerful.
Then she became lost in the contemplation of his great hands which he kept
spread out on his knees: the fingers were square; the clenched fist must
be enormous and would fell an ox.</p>
<p>Laurent was a real son of a peasant, rather heavy in gait, with an arched
back, with movements that were slow and precise, and an obstinate tranquil
manner. One felt that his apparel concealed round and well-developed
muscles, and a body of thick hard flesh. Therese examined him with
curiosity, glancing from his fists to his face, and experienced little
shivers when her eyes fell on his bull-like neck.</p>
<p>Camille spread out his Buffon volumes, and his serials at 10 centimes the
number, to show his friend that he also studied. Then, as if answering an
inquiry he had been making of himself for some minutes, he said to
Laurent:</p>
<p>"But, surely you must know my wife? Don't you remember that little cousin
who used to play with us at Vernon?"</p>
<p>"I had no difficulty in recognising Madame," answered Laurent, looking
Therese full in the face.</p>
<p>This penetrating glance troubled the young woman, who, nevertheless, gave
a forced smile, and after exchanging a few words with Laurent and her
husband, hurried away to join her aunt, feeling ill at ease.</p>
<p>As soon as they had seated themselves at table, and commenced the soup,
Camille thought it right to be attentive to his friend.</p>
<p>"How is your father?" he inquired.</p>
<p>"Well, I don't know," answered Laurent. "We are not on good terms; we
ceased corresponding five years ago."</p>
<p>"Bah!" exclaimed the clerk, astonished at such a monstrosity.</p>
<p>"Yes," continued the other, "the dear man has ideas of his own. As he is
always at law with his neighbours, he sent me to college, in the fond hope
that later on, he would find in me an advocate who would win him all his
actions. Oh! daddy Laurent has naught but useful ambitions; he even wants
to get something out of his follies."</p>
<p>"And you wouldn't be an advocate?" inquired Camille, more and more
astonished.</p>
<p>"Faith, no," answered his friend with a smile. "For a couple of years I
pretended to follow the classes, so as to draw the allowance of 1,200
francs which my father made me. I lived with one of my college chums, who
is a painter, and I set about painting also. It amused me. The calling is
droll, and not at all fatiguing. We smoked and joked all the livelong
day."</p>
<p>The Raquin family opened their eyes in amazement.</p>
<p>"Unfortunately," continued Laurent, "this could not last. My father found
out that I was telling him falsehoods. He stopped my 100 francs a month,
and invited me to return and plough the land with him. I then tried to
paint pictures on religious subjects which proved bad business. As I could
plainly see that I was going to die of hunger, I sent art to the deuce and
sought employment. My father will die one of these days, and I am waiting
for that event to live and do nothing."</p>
<p>Laurent spoke in a tranquil tone. In a few words he had just related a
characteristic tale that depicted him at full length. In reality he was an
idle fellow, with the appetite of a full-blooded man for everything, and
very pronounced ideas as to easy and lasting employment. The only ambition
of this great powerful frame was to do nothing, to grovel in idleness and
satiation from hour to hour. He wanted to eat well, sleep well, to
abundantly satisfy his passions, without moving from his place, without
running the risk of the slightest fatigue.</p>
<p>The profession of advocate had terrified him, and he shuddered at the idea
of tilling the soil. He had plunged into art, hoping to find therein a
calling suitable to an idle man. The paint-brush struck him as being an
instrument light to handle, and he fancied success easy. His dream was a
life of cheap sensuality, a beautiful existence full of houris, of repose
on divans, of victuals and intoxication.</p>
<p>The dream lasted so long as daddy Laurent sent the crown pieces. But when
the young man, who was already thirty, perceived the wolf at the door, he
began to reflect. Face to face with privations, he felt himself a coward.
He would not have accepted a day without bread, for the utmost glory art
could bestow. As he had said himself, he sent art to the deuce, as soon as
he recognised that it would never suffice to satisfy his numerous
requirements. His first efforts had been below mediocrity; his peasant
eyes caught a clumsy, slovenly view of nature; his muddy, badly drawn,
grimacing pictures, defied all criticism.</p>
<p>But he did not seem to have an over-dose of vanity for an artist; he was
not in dire despair when he had to put aside his brushes. All he really
regretted was the vast studio of his college chum, where he had been
voluptuously grovelling for four or five years. He also regretted the
women who came to pose there. Nevertheless he found himself at ease in his
position as clerk; he lived very well in a brutish fashion, and he was
fond of this daily task, which did not fatigue him, and soothed his mind.
Still one thing irritated him: the food at the eighteen sous ordinaries
failed to appease the gluttonous appetite of his stomach.</p>
<p>As Camille listened to his friend, he contemplated him with all the
astonishment of a simpleton. This feeble man was dreaming, in a childish
manner, of this studio life which his friend had been alluding to, and he
questioned Laurent on the subject.</p>
<p>"So," said he, "there were lady models who posed before you in the nude?"</p>
<p>"Oh! yes," answered Laurent with a smile, and looking at Therese, who had
turned deadly pale.</p>
<p>"You must have thought that very funny," continued Camille, laughing like
a child. "It would have made me feel most awkward. I expect you were quite
scandalised the first time it happened."</p>
<p>Laurent had spread out one of his great hands and was attentively looking
at the palm. His fingers gave slight twitches, and his cheeks became
flushed.</p>
<p>"The first time," he answered, as if speaking to himself, "I fancy I
thought it quite natural. This devilish art is exceedingly amusing, only
it does not bring in a sou. I had a red-haired girl as model who was
superb, firm white flesh, gorgeous bust, hips as wide as . . ."</p>
<p>Laurent, raising his head, saw Therese mute and motionless opposite,
gazing at him with ardent fixedness. Her dull black eyes seemed like two
fathomless holes, and through her parted lips could be perceived the rosy
tint of the inside of her mouth. She seemed as if overpowered by what she
heard, and lost in thought. She continued listening.</p>
<p>Laurent looked from Therese to Camille, and the former painter restrained
a smile. He completed his phrase by a broad voluptuous gesture, which the
young woman followed with her eyes. They were at dessert, and Madame
Raquin had just run downstairs to serve a customer.</p>
<p>When the cloth was removed Laurent, who for some minutes had been
thoughtful, turned to Camille.</p>
<p>"You know," he blurted out, "I must paint your portrait."</p>
<p>This idea delighted Madame Raquin and her son, but Therese remained
silent.</p>
<p>"It is summer-time," resumed Laurent, "and as we leave the office at four
o'clock, I can come here, and let you give me a sitting for a couple of
hours in the evening. The picture will be finished in a week."</p>
<p>"That will be fine," answered Camille, flushed with joy. "You shall dine
with us. I will have my hair curled, and put on my black frock coat."</p>
<p>Eight o'clock struck. Grivet and Michaud made their entry. Olivier and
Suzanne arrived behind them.</p>
<p>When Camille introduced his friend to the company, Grivet pinched his
lips. He detested Laurent whose salary, according to his idea, had risen
far too rapidly. Besides, the introduction of a new-comer was quite an
important matter, and the guests of the Raquins could not receive an
individual unknown to them, without some display of coldness.</p>
<p>Laurent behaved very amicably. He grasped the situation, and did his best
to please the company, so as to make himself acceptable to them at once.
He related anecdotes, enlivened the party by his merry laughter, and even
won the friendship of Grivet.</p>
<p>That evening Therese made no attempt to go down to the shop. She remained
seated on her chair until eleven o'clock, playing and talking, avoiding
the eyes of Laurent, who for that matter did not trouble himself about
her. The sanguineous temperament of this strapping fellow, his full voice
and jovial laughter, troubled the young woman and threw her into a sort of
nervous anguish.</p>
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